


Bah, Gobblebug!

by meowitskatmofo



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, DCTV Secret Santa 2018, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Making Out, Mild Angst, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-25 00:59:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17111456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowitskatmofo/pseuds/meowitskatmofo
Summary: Jim Gordon helps get Oswald Cobblepot in the Christmas spirit.





	Bah, Gobblebug!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaptainChilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainChilly/gifts).



Christmas was a difficult time of year for Oswald Cobblepot. He'd always found the fog of false cheer and stilted kindness particularly nauseating. It was nearly impossible to endure now since the death of his mother.

No, he corrected himself bitterly, since the murder of his mother.

Gazing out over Gotham from his office window, he grimaced when it started to snow. Most of it would turn into grey slush by the morning. He sighed heavily, limping away to pour himself a glass of wine.

The cold made his leg ache unbearably, left miserable and wishing he had a stone in his chest instead of a heart.

Perhaps then he wouldn't miss his mother so much.

She had always made the holidays tolerable, teaching him fun songs to sing and baking little ginger cookies in festive shapes. She would cook a giant pot of goulash and they would feast until they were both ready to burst.

There was one year she had bought a small tinsel tree underneath of which she had wrapped little presents in newspaper for him; new pencils, colored paper, penny candy, and a pair of shoes.

She had saved all year for such a splurge and Oswald loved it all. It wasn't even the presents that had made him so happy, but seeing the joy it gave his mother to spoil him.

One day you will have a proper Christmas tree, she told him with a sweet smile, a great tree for a great man.

This was his first Christmas without her, the melancholy choking off his air. He couldn't breathe, stubbornly blinking away his tears. He had certainly become a great man, the King of Gotham in fact, but what good was any of his power if he remained crippled by this anguish?

He still had the tinsel tree, the scrappy little thing sitting on the corner of his desk. The ornaments were all gone now except a tiny paper star on top, stubbornly refusing to let the passage of time wilt it away.

Oswald tilted his head when he heard approaching footsteps, scowling viciously. He raised his hand, ready to hurl his glass at whoever was foolish enough to disturb him.

The trim and neat figure of James Gordon walked in without hesitation, his handsome face pressed into a surprisingly friendly smile as he said cordially, "Merry Christmas, Oswald."

"Hello, James," Oswald said sharply, hardly in the mood for the company. He did lower his wine glass at least. He ignored the seasonal greeting, sighing, "I really must hire better men... seeing as how they'll just let anybody walk right in."

"The badge is very encouraging," Jim said with a wry smirk. He stuck his hands in his coat pockets, looking over Oswald with a curious expression.

"Why are you here?" Oswald demanded. He wanted to be alone with his miserable thoughts and Jim's sweet face was too much for him to bare at that moment.

"I need a favor," Jim said flatly, his friendly demeanor dropping as he got right to the point.

"Naturally," Oswald scoffed, draining the last of his wine and grunting as he tried to walk forward. The damned cold was wrecking his leg, waddling over and stopping a few feet short of his bar.

"You all right, Oswald?" Jim asked, his brows furrowing up in genuine concern.

"Oh, just spectacular," he grumbled in reply, frozen by the end of his desk and in too much pain to move.

"Here," Jim said softly, grabbing the bottle of wine and offering to refill Oswald's glass.

Oswald suspected this kindness was only to butter him up, but his leg hurt too damn much to refuse it. He held his head high, waddling back to his chair and sinking down, sighing, "Thank you."

Jim poured the wine, saying politely, "I'm hoping to get some intel on a new gang that's popped up in the Narrows. Calling themselves the Checks and Balances.”

"And what do I get in return for providing this information?" Oswald wondered out loud, sipping at his glass thoughtfully.

"It is the season of giving," Jim replied with a shrug.

"Ah, you expect me to pass along this valuable information without compensation out of the goodness of my heart?" Oswald drawled, swirling the wine around in his glass before taking a big gulp to finish it off.

"It would be very generous of you," Jim pointed out, a little smile playing on his lips.

"I think not," Oswald growled, slamming his empty glass down and standing back up. He limped around his desk, wincing as a jolt of pain rocked him.

Jim was right there at his side, a hand at the small of his back as he protested, "Oswald, don't! Let me help you!"

“I don’t need any help!” Oswald hissed, trying to shove Jim away from him. He stumbled forward, trying to catch himself on the edge of his desk and knocking the tinsel tree off in his haste.

The tinsel flew everywhere, a glittering eruption as it struck the floor and broke right in half.

Oswald shrieked, forgetting all about his pain as he immediately dropped to the floor. He glared furiously up at Jim, barking hysterically, “Look what you made me do!”

“Oswald... I’m... I’m sorry,” Jim stammered, alarmed to see him so upset. “The tree was important to you?”

"It was my mother's," Oswald said tearfully, his lip trembling as he picked up the little fragments of tinsel and the paper star.

Jim crouched beside him, helping him scoop up the scattered pieces. He frowned, saying softly, "You miss her."

"Very much," Oswald confirmed with a sad smile.

"Here," Jim said, offering out what he’d been able to gather.

Their fingers brushed together and Oswald felt a particularly strong rush of heat. He looked into Jim’s blue eyes and he saw such affection that it nearly took his breath away. For a brief moment, they were holding hands and Oswald had to force himself to sever the connection.

“I’m pretty handy with glue,” Jim ventured, helping Oswald back up to his feet, “I could help you fix it if you’d like.”

“Thank you, that won’t be necessary,” Oswald replied briskly, carefully laying the remains of the tree on his desk. He made sure every shred of tinsel was accounted for, taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

“You’ll need a new star,” Jim observed, noting that the paper one was certainly torn beyond repair.

“I need nothing of the sort,” Oswald chirped sharply, surprised to see a little pout on Jim’s face. He scanned over Jim’s expression, trying to understand the emotion that had currently possessed it.

There was a softness Oswald had rarely seen before, his blood immediately warming to be the recipient of such a tender gaze.

“Oswald?” Jim asked, his voice low and tender as his hand dared rest upon his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

It was such a simple gesture, but the weight of it made Oswald’s knees weak. He was hopelessly lost in the blue depths of Jim’s eyes, haunted by the pain he recognized within and knew so well.

"I'll tell you what you want to know," Oswald said at last to break the brewing tension, "On one condition."

"What?"

"Join me for Christmas Eve," Oswald ordered firmly, “Dine with me and I will give you all the information I have on the new gang.”

“Why not tonight?” Jim suggested with a roll of his shoulders.

“Eager, are we?” Oswald quirked his brows, his smile coy.

“Yes, to catch this gang of criminals,” Jim replied, “Christmas Eve is not until next week. GCPD cannot wait that long to make a break in the case with these hooligans.”

“Fine,” Oswald said dismissively, hobbling away to take his seat back at his desk. “Tonight then. Seven o’clock.”

“Seven,” Jim confirmed, “Should I bring anything?”

“I wouldn’t trust your pedestrian tastes to bring anything appropriate to accompany the meal,” Oswald drawled, “I will take care of it.

“I happen to have excellent taste,” Jim argued stubbornly.

“You forget, Jim,” Oswald snorted dryly, “I’ve seen what you eat, so I know that for a fact to be a wicked lie.”

Jim laughed, loud and unexpected, nodding as he asked, “Fair enough. Could I at least pick up a bottle of wine?”

“As long as you don’t purchase it from the grocery store,” Oswald chirped haughtily, unable to resist a little smile.

“Well, where else do you buy it from then?” Jim scoffed.

Oswald’s lip twitched up in a disgusted and horrified sneer at the thought of drinking wine from a grocer’s stock, grunting softly as he struggled to respond.

“I’m kidding!” Jim laughed again, grinning brightly. “I do know where to buy nice wine, Oswald. Red?”

“Yes, thank you,” Oswald sighed, raising a hand to massage his temple as if he’d found the joke horrid. He really had, though he did enjoy how that big smile lit up Jim’s handsome face.

“I’m actually really looking forward to this,” Jim admitted, his hands sliding down to rest on his hips.

“Of course,” Oswald nodded. “I’m sure you always enjoy the opportunity to do the GCPD proud.”

“No, I meant...” Jim’s smile was downright bashful. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a date. I’m really glad we’re not waiting.”

Oswald’s heart launched up into his throat as that word struck him right in the chest.

Date.

This wasn’t merely a business meeting.

James Worthington Gordon said this was a date and Oswald Cobblepot would not have corrected him for all of King Solomon’s gold.

“I can’t wait to see your house,” Jim went on cheerfully, “I’m sure you take Christmas to a whole new level.”

“Oh, ohhh, that I do,” Oswald chuckled anxiously, trying to hide the wave of panic washing over him.

“This is actually my favorite time of year,” Jim confessed shyly. “One of the few seasons that usually brings out the best in people. It reminds me there’s good still left in the world...”

Blah, blah, blah.

All Oswald could hear was that Jim absolutely loved Christmas and he was filled with a sudden urgency to make his home a holiday wonderland in the space of a few hours for their date.

“I’ll see you tonight, Oswald!” Jim concluded, snapping Oswald out of his mental frenzy.

“Yes, tonight!” Oswald managed to choke out.

Jim flashed that ridiculously charming smile, taking his leave and shutting the door behind him.

The moment Jim left, Oswald sprang into action. He called all of his men to start gathering Christmas decorations and a proper tree for the house. He phoned Olga next to get started at once preparing an extravagant feast.

He even called Victor to assist him with some of the purchases, asking if he was any good at repairs as he looked over the poor tinsel tree.

Victor calmly replied that his specialty was making things more broken, not less.

Oswald grumbled for Victor to come pick him up immediately. He would worry about the damn tree later. He had to return home and oversee the decorating.

He carefully scooped the bits of the tree into a small box, carrying it on his lap for the duration of the drive back to the house. He was pleased to see that the tree was up when got there and garlands of holly were woven along the railing of the staircase and up over the mantle.

Oswald spent the afternoon ordering his men about to finish up, nitpicking the placement of every last ribbon and holiday bauble, surprised to find himself smiling as he looked over the final vision.

The crisp scent of evergreen and warm spices was comforting and he liked the glow of the clear twinkling lights on the tree. The foyer smelled of cinnamon where Olga had lit several festive candles. The reds and greens of lush poinsettias were all so cheerful against the dark colors of his furnishings and when he returned to the parlor, he was delighted to find a little surprise from Victor.

The tinsel tree was standing on the side table, made even more scrappy and minuscule to be so near the larger tree, but every shred had been glued back together with a moderately steady hand.

Oswald was quite touched and he didn’t even mind that it was leaning to one side now. It strangely reminded him of himself; broken but reborn, though still a tad crooked. It gave the tree a greater depth of character, he mused, just like him.

He made a mental note to give Victor a very special Christmas bonus to show his gratitude, retiring briefly to his bedroom to dress for the evening. Eyes lined and suit pressed to perfection, he hurried downstairs to wait for his special guest.

Oswald nearly drank his way through an entire bottle of wine to drown his nerves, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. As the minutes ticked by, he easily fell back into despair.

It had to be a joke, he thought. Jim was setting him up to have a laugh. Making him think this was a date to get his hopes up, to lull him into a false sense of security for some terrible scheme.

Oswald’s pacing became nearly frantic, his thoughts downright murderous now, jerking around when he heard footsteps approaching. Relief relaxed his scowl away when he saw it was Jim, fluttering up to him as he gushed, “I almost didn’t think you were coming.”

“Sorry I’m so late,” Jim said earnestly, wine under his arm and regret wrinkling his brow, “Please. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Oswald.” He looked around, taking in the cheerful decorations with a happy smile. “The house truly looks amazing.” His eyes flicked over Oswald’s suit. “And so do you.”

“Thank you.” Oswald was beaming, his heart soaring when Jim reached for his hand. There was that lovely warmth again, gazing helplessly up at this gorgeous man. He wanted to tell Jim how much this meant to him, but all that left his lips was an awkward, “Are... are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Jim replied, still holding Oswald’s hand as they moved to the dining room where Olga was waiting to serve them.

Dinner was lovely, Olga having truly outdone herself with a spectacular holiday feast. Oswald showered her with praise every time she brought them a new course. He and Jim easily finished off the bottle of wine he had brought and Oswald had to finally admit that it was not terrible.

Their conversation was light, Jim explaining he’d been running late because of an accident downtown. Oswald told him not to think anything of it, grateful that he had been able to arrive safely. They talked about Christmases from years ago, Jim sharing stories about his father and Oswald telling him about the year his mother had given him the tinsel tree.

Work never came up once for either one of them, thoroughly enjoying each other’s company without the outside reality of who they were ever trickling in. Drinking wine and eating thick slices of warm spice cake, they weren’t the King of Gotham and Detective Gordon.

They were Oswald and James.

It was wonderful.

As Olga cleared the dessert plates away, Oswald escorted Jim back in the parlor for another bottle of wine. Cheeks flushed and happy, he topped off their glasses as he teased, “Perhaps we should slow down if you’re going to be in any state to drive yourself home?”

“I can always call a cab,” Jim laughed, “Besides, I’m not ready to leave yet. I haven’t even given you your present.”

“Present?”

Jim brought out a small box from his coat pocket, smiling shyly as he handed it over to him, saying softly, “Merry Christmas, Oswald.”

Oswald blinked rapidly, well aware of how their knees were touching as he pulled at the bit of ribbon keeping the lid in place. The cardboard lifted up to reveal a bright yellow plastic star for a miniature Christmas tree. He didn’t understand at first, holding the little ornament with a frown.

“For your tree,” Jim explained, nodding to the tinsel tree on the table, “As stubborn as you are, I was pretty sure you might still be in need of a new one.”

Oswald pressed the plastic ornament against his chest, overwhelmed by the need to ground himself in the physical world because his soul was trying to leave his body. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had been given a gift, much less when one had ever been so thoughtful... no, he did remember.

Not since his mother.

The tears were upon him before he could even catch enough breath to push them away. His lower lip was trembling, trying to speak, managing a light stammer, “Oh, Jim... it’s... it’s... it’s wonderful.”

“I’m very glad you like it, Oswald,” Jim said happily, his hand lightly resting on his shoulder. “I wanted to thank you. We’ve had quite a time over the years, but you’ve always been there for me. I appreciate that. Being my friend... is not always easy.”

Oswald turned, touching Jim’s thigh as he sighed in understanding, “Nor is it easy to be mine.” He smiled sweetly, daring to lean closer as he said, “Thank you for the gift. It is truly wonderful, I mean it. I’m at a loss for words.”

“You?” Jim scoffed playfully.

“Yes,” Oswald chuckled, rolling his eyes. “I’m so sorry I didn’t think to get anything for you! I didn’t realize we’d be exchanging gifts.”

“I believe it’s considered polite for a guest to bring something for the host?”

“But you had already brought the wine!” Oswald protested, lashes fluttering while he watched Jim’s throat bob as he drank down his glass.

“I wanted to do something... special. And I honestly didn’t know what to get you,” Jim confessed, “You already seem to have everything you could ever want.”

“I don’t have you,” Oswald said quietly, gazing adoringly at Jim, anxiety gripping his heart as he laid himself so bare.

“Not yet,” Jim replied, his eyes soft and equally vulnerable.

“Jim,” Oswald breathed, searching his face for any sign of deception. He found none, frozen in place by his own fear as the anticipation grew thick and heavy.

Jim was the one to bridge the gap left between them, slowly moving forward and pressing his lips to Oswald’s. His glass was left to the mercy of floor, thankfully empty, his hands rising to cradle his face as he kissed him.

Oswald gasped, his fingers clenching around the star still pressed to his chest. He was shy at first, but was soon chasing the taste of wine on Jim’s tongue. Their bodies pressed close, seeking the friction of each other’s embrace, Oswald’s head absolutely spinning as passion consumed him.

The little star was abandoned on the table with a loud clatter, both of Oswald’s hands now free to explore. He had longed to touch Jim like this for so long, to map out the broad strength of his shoulders and the sharp cut of his chin. The kiss was amazing, tender and deep, Oswald breathless and panting after only a few moments.

Jim held Oswald so very delicately, ghosting his palms along his hips and thighs. It wasn’t enough, Oswald was far too greedy for such minimalist advances, climbing boldly into Jim’s lap. The pain in his leg be damned, he had James Gordon in his arms at long last and he wouldn’t let anything slow him down.

Jim’s coat was sacrificed to carpets beside the wine glass, his tie soon joining them. Buttons popped as Oswald tore at his shirt, desperate to feel Jim’s bare flesh. He had to know this was real, a wild shrieking voice at the back of his thoughts still in doubt.

Oswald pressed his hand against Jim’s chest, relieved to feel his frantic pulse beneath his palm. It was the most beautiful sensation, rivaled only by Jim’s tongue seductively curling against his own. The soft sounds Jim made as they kissed were absolutely maddening, driving heat into Oswald’s loins that threatened to steal away his senses.

“Oh, Jim,” Oswald murmured, his fingers running all through that pretty blonde hair. He could feel Jim’s very developed interest down between his legs, rocking his hips forward to show him how matched they were in their passions. 

“Oswald,” Jim moaned breathlessly, seizing his thighs as he suddenly grinded up against him. 

Oswald nearly came undone right then and there. He needed to breathe, parting their kiss for the sake of taking in precious oxygen as he panted, “Perhaps the sofa is not the most appropriate place for carnal activity.”

“No?” Jim smirked, gazing over Oswald’s lips with ravenous hunger. “I thought we were doing all right.”

“Oh, we were doing much more than all right,” Oswald assured him. He couldn’t stop smiling until his nerves began to get the better of him once more, asking hesitantly, “What about the information you needed for your case? For the GCPD?”

Jim grinned slyly, rising off the sofa and easily carrying Oswald up with him. He held him close, replying coyly, “You can tell me all about that gang tomorrow morning over breakfast.”

“Tomorrow...?” Oswald gasped softly, his face lighting up with pure delight as he realized the full extent of Jim’s intentions. He pursed his lips smugly, affecting an air of nonchalance as he informed him sternly, “Well, I will have you know, James Gordon, it’s going to be a very late breakfast.”

“Good,” Jim chuckled, already heading towards the stairs to make good on his unspoken promise as he teased, “Because I have one more present to give you, Oswald Cobblepot... and it’s probably going to take all night.”

“Oh, really?” Oswald chuckled warmly, leaning in for another passionate kiss as he sighed, “Mmm, well, a very Merry Christmas to me...”

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas! :D


End file.
